


the value of trust

by mischievous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 13:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13741578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischievous/pseuds/mischievous
Summary: She's taken for granted the comfort that comes from familiar company and the security that comes with knowing the person watching over her cares about her, is someone she can trust to bring her home.(For acomment_ficprompt by ami_ven: MCU, Phil Coulson + Natasha Romanov,he's the one man who never tried to sleep with her.)





	the value of trust

Natasha often forgets how lucky she's been throughout her SHIELD career. When Clint recruited her into the organisation three years ago and demanded that Fury keep them together as a team, Fury created Strike Team Delta and handed them over to Phil Coulson. With one or two unpleasant exceptions, Phil's been her only handler.

He's away for two weeks leading an op out of South Africa and she misses him. He's the only straight-forward, uncomplicated relationship in her life and when he's not there she feels a little off-balance. Even Clint, as close as they are, will always be tangled in her head with the brief relationship they shared a few months after he brought her to SHIELD.

She and Phil don't have that kind of history. 

The first week they'd been scheduled for downtime. The second week they went back into the pool of available agents and quickly found themselves snapped up for a two-day op in Russia. Natasha doesn't like going back to her home country and she doesn't like ops that aren't run by Phil. Thompson's plan is efficient enough, she can't complain, but the time passes slowly despite the simplicity of the job.

Thompson isn't a bad handler, he's just not what she's used to. She doesn't trust him the same way she can trust Coulson, which makes the entire op more stressful that it normally would've been. She's taken for granted the comfort that comes from familiar company and the security that comes with knowing the person watching over her cares about her, is someone she can trust to bring her home.

She can also trust Phil _not_ to look at her like he's imagining what she'd look like naked in his bed, which is a skill that Thompson hasn't mastered. Realistically she knows he doesn't mean it, she can tell he hasn't even noticed he's doing it, but it makes her skin crawl nevertheless. She misses the simple, protective feel of Phil's watchful gaze.

They debriefed that op this morning, which means it's finally over, and Phil's due back any time now. She's not sure exactly when, he's been dark the entire time he's been away.

As if reading her mind, Clint appears beside her.

"I just tried to get Hill to tell me what time Phil's getting back but she wouldn't answer," Clint says, by way of a hello, sitting down opposite Natasha as he offers her a cup of coffee.

Natasha takes it with a smile but the news doesn't please her. It's a small piece of information to ask for and there's no reason for Hill to be vague. He is their handler.

"It's definitely today though, so I was thinking," Clint continues with a mischievous smile. "Since she won't let us meet the jet when it gets back, why don't we just wait in his room? He's bound to go there as soon as he gets back, even if it's only for a minute."

"Not sure he's gonna be okay with that," Natasha points out, although the idea has merit.

Phil wouldn't be _that_ mad.

"You're not saying no," Clint says.

"I'm not saying no," Natasha agrees. "If they're not back by nine, I'm definitely saying yes."

Clint looks at her with a little more understanding than Natasha really wants. He knows her well and he always seems to see the things she wants to hide.

"I wasn't really expecting you to go along with this," he admits. "You're really missing Phil."

"I just forget how lucky we are," she says, finally, after a minute. "Having him as a handler, I mean. This last week with Thompson reminded me. He's really the only handler I've ever had and I'm grateful for whatever he did to annoy Fury enough to get stuck with us at the beginning."

"You think we were a punishment?" Clint cocks his head curiously, thinking about it. "I never thought about it, but I guess we could've been."

"Are you kidding?" Natasha says, flashing back to how they were when they first met. "Of course we were a punishment. They used to take bets on who was going to have to take us. Everyone thought we were reckless and uncontrollable."

"Except Phil," Clint smiles. "He gave us a chance."

Natasha nods. "He's always made it clear that he values my skills and my opinions more than my looks and I trust him, implicitly. I know if he's there we're all going to be okay, even when we're cutting it close. I don't get that with the others. They either think I'm a cold-blooded killer who can't be trusted, or that I'm not competent enough to do what needs to be done."

Clint wants to argue but the truth is, neither of them are particularly popular with other agents. Everyone wants to work with them because their success rate is almost perfect, but no one _really_ wants to deal with them in the field. It takes someone whip-smart to keep up with them and the curveballs they sometimes throw mid-op without warning.

That's the other reason why they mostly get to work for Phil.

 

-

 

They meet in Natasha’s room at nine o’clock because the path through the vents is shorter from there. Phil still isn’t back, the quinjets are impossible to miss when they return to the Helicarrier, so they’ve agreed that Clint will climb through the vents into Phil’s room and then open the door to let her in.

They figure the time it'll take to pick the lock might cause suspicion on a ship full of spies. Instead Natasha waits for Clint's text to say he's inside, then quietly walks up to the door and knocks, entering when Clint opens the door.

They settle down on the couch, flicking through the tv channels in search of something to watch as the last of the light fades. Summer's drawing to a close and the nights are getting shorter. After an hour of channel surfing Natasha wanders over to lie down on the bed, pulling the fleece blanket at the foot over her for warmth. She's tired and it's beginning to look like she has time for a nap.

She dozes, vaguely aware of Clint coming to join her a little later, stealing half her blanket. She offers a sleepy protest and pulls a little more of it back, before her eyes flutter closed again.

She snaps awake as soon as Phil opens the door, sharp green eyes already trained on his face as he switches the table light on and looks at her with bemused affection. Beside her, Clint blinks sleepily.

"You two get kicked out of your own rooms while I was gone?" Phil teases, but he seems happy to see them both.

"Hill wouldn't tell us what time you were getting back," Clint says, pouting even as he scowls at the memory. "We figured this was the next best option. We haven't seen you in two weeks!"

"I'd say ' _how did you get in?_ ' but I already know, and for the record I don't approve," Phil advises. "I'll talk to Maria but if you want access that badly, I'll give you a key. Leave the vents alone."

He drops his bag by the door as Natasha slides off the bed and pads over to him, cat-quiet, to fold herself into his arms for a hug. She's more affectionate with him than she is with most people, but she rarely offers or asks for this. He holds her close and strokes soothing patterns down her back until she begins to relax.

"Did everything go okay this week?" he asks, frowning as he looks to Clint for an answer. He's usually the more forthcoming of the two, especially with disaster stories.

"We just missed you," Clint says, brushing the question aside. Really, nothing _has_ gone wrong. Things just haven't been right. "Working with other people isn't that great."

"Have to agree with you there," Phil says, thinking of his own problematic op, and the junior agents he's fairly sure have caused him to lose some hair. "I missed you too."

"How was South Africa?" Natasha asks, finally pulling away from him, rubbing lightly at her eyes as she yawns.

"It was a clusterfuck," Phil says, but he sounds cheerful enough about it, so they know it can't have ended too badly. "Junior agents are a menace and they shouldn't be allowed out in packs. Next time, I'm taking reinforcements."

"Like us," Natasha says pointedly, crossing her arms. "We can wrangle the baby agents."

The effect is somewhat ruined when she yawns again and Clint flops back down on the bed as he vocalises his agreement, pulling the blanket more snugly around himself.

"I don't wanna move, boss," he says, closing his eyes. "Don't make me."

"If you're staying there, at least move over," Phil says mildly, ruffling Natasha's hair as he walks towards his drawers for a set of sleep clothes. "I'm tired enough to pass out on top of you if you don't and that's the only warning I'm giving you."

He disappears into the bathroom to change as Natasha looks at Clint. He's showing no signs of getting up to leave, kicking off his shoes and shucking his jeans before he wriggles under the covers, leaving enough room for her and Phil.

It won't be the first time the three of them have shared a bed. Over the three years they've worked together, they've shared far worse sleeping arrangements. There's always something comforting about closing her eyes, knowing they're both safe beside her.

Natasha moves over to the light when Phil reappears, sliding into bed next to Clint. She switches it off and makes her way over to the bed from memory, her eyes quickly adjusting. The soft leggings and oversized t-shirt she's wearing will be comfortable enough to sleep in. She slips under the covers and curls into the remaining space, close enough to feel the warmth of Phil's skin, but not so close that they're touching.

Her eyes are already closing when Clint says, "Hey, Phil?"

Phil murmurs something that may or may not be a response but Clint presses on anyway.

"When Fury first assigned us to you, was it a punishment?"

"Yes," Phil mutters sleepily. "Go to sleep."

"You can't say yes and then not tell me the story!" Clint complains. Natasha hears the rustle of the duvet as he turns to face Phil. "Please?"

"You're too old for a bed time story, Clint," Phil groans, but Clint pleads and he starts to tell the story anyway.

Natasha smiles as she closes her eyes, relaxing into the mattress as it sinks in that her family is finally back together, falling asleep to Clint's soft laughter and the rhythmic cadence of Phil's voice.


End file.
